


i see fire

by callunavulgari



Series: Crossover Drabble Meme Collection [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood Magic, F/M, M/M, Resurrection, Rituals, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 02:48:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1534796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/callunavulgari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The October air is cool, drifting in through the open windows of Derek’s loft. They’re all gathered around the television, drooping with exhaustion. Her fingers are stained with graveyard soil and the smell of death and magic is so thick around her and Stiles that she’s surprised Scott and Derek haven’t forced them into the showers yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i see fire

**Author's Note:**

> This is from a gigantic collection of crossover drabbles. I made a list of twelve characters and have been writing the results of the prompts and pairing match ups. One/Eight (Stiles/Lydia) - Fluff.

The October air is cool, drifting in through the open windows of Derek’s loft. They’re all gathered around the television, drooping with exhaustion. Her fingers are stained with graveyard soil and the smell of death and magic is so thick around her and Stiles that she’s surprised Scott and Derek haven’t forced them into the showers yet. Instead, they’re huddled close, practically on top of her and Stiles. Derek’s got an arm around Stiles’ shoulders, one of his hands absentmindedly stroking through her hair, while the other plays with Stiles’ fingers, which are splayed out over Scott’s kneecap. He looks at least as exhausted as they do, and Scott isn’t much better, for all that he wasn’t even there until the last half of the ritual. He’s got a bruise around his throat that’s only slightly her fault, but doesn’t seem to care, since he’s most of the way in her lap, legs extended out across both Derek and Stiles’ laps as well, as if he’s trying his damndest to make sure he touches all of them.  
  
She doesn’t even really know what’s on the tv, just that it features Rachel McAdams and it’s not the Notebook.  
  
The ritual will take three days to actually take, so they’re pulling ridiculous shifts so that the graveyard has someone in it at all times, just in case. It would have been easier, before Chris, Isaac, and Ethan left, but the Sheriff and Melissa are both helping when they can.   
  
Kira had insisted on taking tonight’s shift, because, in her words, the rest of them needed to go the hell to sleep before they keeled over.   
  
Lydia drifts, temple resting on Stiles’ shoulder, and thinks that she’s happy, right this very second.   
  
She doesn’t think of weird sex magic or how Stiles had looked between her legs, his eyes gone black and bloated as he channeled their magic. She doesn’t think of Derek’s hand pressed to the nape of Stiles neck as he took the excess magic into himself, grounding them — or the way he’d murmured soft instructions into Stiles’ ear, whispering, _more tongue, good, that’s it,_ until her orgasm rushed out of her with a scream that had everyone’s ears bleeding.  
  
She carefully rearranges and places everything to the back of her mind, not because she’s ashamed of it, but because if she thinks about anything right now other than the contentment curling through her bones, she might just shatter into pieces.  
  
“We did it,” she whispers, her voice croaking like a frogs, barely there. She’d spent so much time screaming tonight, it’s like her voice crawled out with the screams. But it’s worth it.  
  
“We did,” Stiles responds, wearily, tucking his nose under her chin. He still smells like her — like sex and magic and death, but also like her, so she kisses the taste off his lips. It’s soft and sweet, not romantic in the least, but it matters, because it’s triumph and hope and fierce, fierce joy.   
  
Derek’s gone tense on Stiles’ other side, his hand frozen in her hair, and she wants to laugh, because he’d coaxed Stiles through giving her a phenomenal orgasm and this is what he balks at? Instead of laughing though, she pats his arm gently, breaking the kiss with Stiles. They both dissolve into delirious giggles, muffling the sounds into each other’s hair as Derek and Scott snort at them, Derek thankfully relaxing.  
  
Tomorrow or the day after, Allison is going to wake up — alive, alive, alive — and she won’t be alone to claw herself free of a grave. One of them will be there and everything and nothing matters, because Stiles and Lydia and Derek, _they_ did this.  
  
And for now, that’s all that matters.  
  



End file.
